The Insider
by Beatrice29
Summary: You all know about the Greasers' side of the story, but ever think about us Socials? The ones who 'Have it easy? Well, just because we have more money, better clothes and, pardon me but, way better looking that doesn't necessarily mean we have it easy.
1. Nicest Kids in Town

If I had to describe Tulsa in one word it would be **_plain_**.

Old, boring and washed out. Just like pale pink dress today. If it weren't for the fact that I was currently staying over at my Aunt Loretta and Uncle Paul Holden's house I would be wearing one of my nicer white and blue dresses with a nice wool cardigan, but since Aunt Loretta's maid doesn't know the difference between cotton and wool, here I am stuck in one of my more boring dresses.

As soon as the familiar red Chevy Impala rounds from the corner, I get up from the porch steps and make my way down as the flashy car, carrying two girls, parks in my Uncle's driveway.

On normal days, I would normally take my own car; my Babydoll, a turquoise 1964 Cadillac Coupe DeVille with a white convertible since it's been acting weirdly and I can't be bothered to take it to the auto repairs, I've been getting rides from various friends.

Today, it was Becky's turn to take me to the hell hole called school.

"Morning Katie," Becky calls out cheerfully as I approach her Chevy.

"Hey Becky!" I reply with a smile, as I plop myself down on the white leather seat next to her. "How are you?"

Rebecca Annabel Leeman has been my best friend since I was eight. Blonde, nice, popular,extremely pretty and a Social. She's the sweetest girl in the whole of Tulsa, maybe even the United States and I'm just glad to have her as my best friend. You just ask her to do you a favor and she's willing to comply. Any person would be a fool not to want to be her friend.

"Great!" Becky smiles back with her dimples. "How are you?"

Before I can reply there's a loud cough interrupting our conversation coming from the pristine redhead sitting behind us.

I roll my eyes and twist myself to face myself with the third member of our party, Lisa.

I smile at redhead, despite the pain. "Morning Lisa."

"Morning Katie," she replies, her red lips stretching into a phoney smile.

Lisa on the other hand is a completely different story. You would think that Lisa and I are best friends. We aren't. To be honest, I don't know what my relationship is with her. I could say she's my friend but the problem is she's a backstabbing bitch who wouldn't hesitate to push me off a cliff if she were given twenty despite the never ending list of faults about her, she's actually pretty good company.

"So how's living with the relatives?" Lisa asks, as soon as we start driving. Her tone was one of those which may seem like she cares but I knew better. What she actually meant was: _How does it feel being abandoned by your mother when she and her boyfriend are in Atlanta?_

"Ugh… just _peachy_," I reply, making sure every word was dripping with sarcasm. "No access to my wardrobe meaning I have to wear this old thing, no full access to the television set, I left my lucky headband back home, and to top things off I have no idea when Mother's coming back!"

"Don't worry about it Katie," Becky reassures me. "I'm sure she'll be back soon enough. I mean how long was the last time she left town?"

"Three months and two weeks," Lisa answers, beating me to it with a smirk. I glare back at the snobby redhead and Becky purses her lips.

"Well either way it's only day 5 of living with the Holdens."

"Yeah," I sigh. "The only good thing about Mother being out of town is the fact that I don't have her on my back constantly criticizing me about something. And besides, I get to skip those god awful singing lessons when she's out of town. I swear if I have to listen to Patricia Stanwalker babble on any more about going to Broadway I am going to kill-"

"Oh my gosh!" Lisa gasps suddenly, her blue eyes wide as saucers. "Guess what I found out this morning?"

"Spill," I say automatically. Having the mayor's daughter as your friend came with many advantages and one of the bonuses is that Cartwright's get the latest town gossip, and judging from Lisa's expression I can tell that it's going to be juicy.

"Well," Lisa starts slowly, creating suspense. "Firstly, I hear that since Vietnam-"

"Lease!" I snap, goodnaturedly. "Who cares about Vietnam? Tell us the gossip! What happened?!"

Lisa smirks. "Okay, so I was just eating breakfast with my parents right and guess what my momma told me?"

"What?" Becky inquired.

"Patricia Stanwalker's pregnant!"

"WHAT?!" the brakes screech to a halt and I choke over my words of shock.

"Pregnant?!" Becky cries out in shock, voicing my thoughts. "How? When? What? Who - who- who's the father?"

"She won't say," Lisa gushes excitedly. "My money's on Louis Beale, I mean they dated for a while and he only just left for college so that's a reasonable reason right?"

"Oh my gosh," the words escape my lips. "18 and pregnant? I'd rather die than be in her position."

Becky starts driving again, nervously chewing her bottom lip as she nods in agreement.

"I agree. My folks would disown me if I ever got knocked up," she adds in. "Geez, my dad would die of shame and he'll probably arrest the baby's father without a blink!"

"Well unsurprisingly the Stanwalker folks aren't happy," Lisa informs us with a grimace. "Heard Mrs Stanwalker fainted and hit her head pretty darn hard. But they're going to send Patty down to live with her aunt in… Florida? I think?" Lisa shakes her head and grins at us, "So, any news from Chief Leeman?"

"Well," Becky says slowly, as if she were thinking real hard about whether or not to tell us. "The usual, I guess. Dallas Winston got hauled in again because he was harassing some little kids down on Bark Avenue-"

"Typical," I mutter, rolling my eyes. Trust a low trashy Greaser to be jumping little kids in the broad daylight.

"-But I think the cops are going to let him off the hook."

"Excuse me?" Lisa coughs offendedly as if Becky just insulted her. "Your dad's setting him free? That criminal?"

"Well comparing it to his other tirades it's pretty darn minor," Becky says earnestly. "I mean it's just bothering some little kids not anything like that time he vandalized the Town Hall."

"I don't know about what you girls think, but that Greaser ought be put away in a mental institution," Lisa's face darkens. "His whole kind should be put away for not only our safety but theirs as well. I mean, they're just plain dangerous. Those kind of people are the ones who you hear on the news everyday. Murderers, rapists, psychopaths, drunks, and thieves, they're everywhere! And the problem is they're born this way and their parents are like that and when they have kids, their kids are going to be just like them."

"You can't know for sure Lisa," Becky says in a polite tone, and I secretly agree with her but I would rather shave my hair than tell Lisa what I thought.

"I'm telling you Becks, you don't know them," Lisa warns her in an ominous tone. "They're unpredictable and they're dangerous, I mean, if I were Strickland, I would expel every Greaser student enrolled at Will Rogers. I mean, it's too dangerous for the rest of us, remember that crazy Shepard boy who broke Wade Fitzgerald's nose just because he wanted to 'cool off some steam'? We can't have trash like him wandering around the school, who knows what could happen next!"

"Yeah maybe it'll be homicide," I put in sarcastically. "Because Dallas Winston is totally Tulsa's very own Norman Bates. In fact doesn't he live in a motel? Hey Lease, your showers don't have shower curtains by any chance now do they? Because…"

I start making stabbing motions towards her as she only watches me with irritation.

Because let's face it; practically everybody hates Miss Bossy-pants-who-would-be-the-next-female-Hitler aka Lisa Cartwright and I wouldn't be surprised if half the people in town wanted to run her over with their tractors.

"Katie!" Becky chides. "Don't be so morbid!"

"Well you clearly would know all about Greasers wouldn't you Katie?" Lisa shoots back, crossing her arms and lifting her chin up in her own stuck up way. "Being friends with one of them and all."

"I was eight," I say defensively, as I twist myself to face Lisa. "And speak for yourself Lisa I wasn't the girl who had a crush on that greaser from the Shepard gang who was two years our senior."

Lisa gapes at me as her cheeks start coloring brightly, and I smirk victoriously while she opens and closes her mouth resembling a guppy before she learns how to shut her mouth back together and rolls her eyes.

"Whatever," she finally mutters, tossing her red ponytail behind her.

I smirk at her before I turn back to face the road.

Tulsa wasn't like any other town, and I'm not talking about the scenery or it's history. I'm talking about the people here. See, there was only one golden rule in Tulsa, and that rule was that you had to stick with your own crowd and in Tulsa there were only three types of people. The Socialites, Middle Classers, and the Greasers.

I was what people would call a Social. Social for short, or a Soc as those uncivilised hoodlums in the East would say. Being a socialite meant you were the best. You were financially stable, you had a big home, you drove Mustangs or Buicks, you lived on the West side of town or the South West of town and you had all the nice things. If you had to dissect us Socialites into smaller groups, I would be sitting at the top of the pyramid along with the Sheldon's, Cartwright's, Leeman's, Bridgestone's, Munnsfield's, Templeton's, Valance's and a few more other families. Socialites have to hang out with the other socialites like Lisa and Becky and we're only allowed to date boys with the same social status as us, like David Greene and Randy Adderson. Being at the top meant you had the upper hand.

Then there are the middle classers who're a total bore. Only doing co curricular activities like the school paper, softball team, diving team and Physics club. They dress modestly, and act modestly, only speak to us when we address them. Some of them are quite decent and throw awesome house parties but other than that, they're the wallflowers of our school.

And then, at the bottom, are the kids from the East.

The 'Greasers'.

The bottom of the social ladder, the white trash at our school, the bottom of the food chain, the peasants. In shorter words, they're the white trash of society.

They're poor, and live on the bad side of the town, wearing leather jackets, and putting hair grease into their hair, hence their name. Greasers hate Socials and Socials hate Greasers. No one really knows why we hate each other but that's how it works around in a town like Tulsa. The rich have the upper hand while the poor are left to feed off the scraps.

I hate Greasers like everyone else because that's what society expects us to do. Not to mention the fact that they're worthless, dangerous people who only crave for sex and booze. But though I would never admit it, I secretly envy them. They were wild, carefree teenagers, who get to have all the fun and do whatever they want without getting disowned by their parents or having their privileges taken away from them. If I did something unspeakable like that trash Evie Howard does, I'd rather die than face the consequences of my guardians.


	2. That's What (Rich)Girls Do

"Marcia Powell!" I yell as soon as I reach our table during Lunch.

Ginny and Marcia turn around simultaneously. Marcia's mouth was filled up with some of the muffin she's holding, and in my opinion she looks like a human blowfish. I snatch the half eaten muffin from Marcia's hand, and raise my eyebrows at her.

"149." I remind her.

I constantly have to remind her that she's already fat enough with a weight of 149 pounds. She's the heaviest in our group. Becky's the lightest with the weight of 129, while I'm a 132. Ever since Marcia kept on complaining how she never caught any guy's eyes, especially Daniel McKeith's, her crush, I decided to help her.

Marcia's cheeks slowly begin to burn up as she looks down at her penny loafers to avoid our eyes. Lisa rolls her eyes and mutters something about fat girls while Becky gives Marcia a pitiful look as I throw the muffin in the nearest trashcan.

"I leave you alone for five minutes after Home Economics and the first thing I see when I come to the cafeteria is you stuffing yourself with a muffin like it's the last thing you're ever going to eat," I say to Marcia, as I sit myself down on my chair. Marcia's head's still tucked down in shame but I continue to rant on.

"Don't you know how many calories a muffin has? Um… way too many. Honestly, it's the first rule of dieting. Cut down on all that food that makes you gain weight, having really sugary stuff's bad for your health. And also-"

"Katie," Becky snaps. "Just drop it, at least she's eating."

"So?" I snap. "I eat too!"

Lisa coughs. "I think what she means is that she eats without throwing it up afterwards."

I turn my head towards the redhead next to me and glare at her but Lisa just shrugs apologetically.

"Fine!" I huff, crossing my arms. "Fine. Go ahead, let our dear friend Marcia over there suffer from humiliation once she's replaces Dorothea Dumptruck as the fattest girl in school-"

"Katie. Just. Drop. It." Becky sighs. I part my lips but shut them, and instead glare at Becky coldly as she started reading _Gone with the Wind._ Arguing against her would be pointless. You see, she had something I didn't. _Brains_. If it weren't for her parents' money, her good looks, and her popularity she would be one of those middle classers who always had their noses in a book or be spending their lunchtimes in a science lab talking about physics and other geeky things that I don't even care of.

I look over to Lisa, who's busy scanning the cafeteria with an annoyed expression on her face.

"Where's Cherry?" Lisa demands impatiently. "She's supposed to be here by now."

Becky scoffs and takes her eyes off her novel. "Since when did you like Cherry Valance so much?"

Lisa glares at Becky before replying coldly. "Just because I need her here right now, that ain't necessarily mean I like her!"

Lisa stands up from the table and smooths her skirt down before walking away to God knows where.

"But you're right Becky," Marcia finally says, once Lisa's out of sight. "Why does Lisa need Cherry?"

"Geez Marcia, I told you in Home Economics," I sigh in frustration. Sometimes I regret letting her join our group. To be honest, I don't even know why I let her join us; it must've been a good decision at the time.

"I forgot," Marcia says quietly. I roll my eyes in annoyance and look towards Becky, hoping she'll side with me but her nose was stuck in "Gone with the Wind" once again. I sigh again. Where did Lisa go?

After about three mintues of absolute silence between us, I finally hear Lisa's voice. "Katie." I twist my body around so I could see who was behind me. I smile once I see Lisa and Ginny, with little Miss Cherry Valance in between them, looking slightly pissed off. Let me get one thing straight,

"Cherry, you're finally here," I say to her in a warm tone.

"Hello to you to Kate," Cherry replies sarcastically. I smile at her and ignore her previous comment; I need her for my next and newest humiliation.

"I want you to forge a disgustingly romantic but realistic note in your best masculine handwriting and then sneak onto Acne face Alexandra's lunch tray," I tell her.

"Kate that's just mean," Cherry protests. "I ain't got anything against Alexandra Sawyer."

"You don't have any for her either!" I shoot back. I glare at her and she glares back at me but it falters after a few seconds.

"I'll think about it," she sighs in defeat.

I scoff. "Don't think. Do it."

"Come on Cherry," Lisa sighs in exasperation. "It'll be fun. Since when did you lose your sense of humor?"

Ginny nods and rips out a piece of paper from her notebook and holds it out to Cherry expectantly.

"Marcia get a pen out," I say to the brunette. Marcia gets a pencil out and hands it to Lisa, who holds it out to Cherry with a cold expression on her face, her red eyebrows raised.

"Well don't just stand there! Are you going to help us or ruin the fun for the rest of us?" Lisa snaps. I raise an eyebrow expectantly at Cherry. She better not screw this up. Cherry catches my eye then sighs in defeat.

"Fine," she says flatly.

Lisa smirks at Cherry victoriously as Cherry takes the pen and paper from her hesitantly. I smile while Cherry sits herself down on her chair and places the paper in front of her and gets ready to write what I tell her to in Daniel's handwriting.

"Dear Alexandra," I dictate. "You make laugh, you make me smile. My love for you is more than a mile-"

"The way you smile radiates my soul and to make you love me would be my only goal," Lisa adds, smirking at me. "The way you read and the way you talk is the only reason I would walk. For my love for you, is at Timbuktu-"

"Be my Helen and I'll be your Troy," I continue, "For my love for you is ever joy. All my love, Daniel."

"Daniel?" Becky asks in a surprised tone. I snatch the sheet from Cherry and start reading through my impromptu poem.

"_Dearest Alexandra,_

_You make me laugh, you make me smile._

_My love for you is more than a mile._

_The way you smile radiates my soul_

_And to make you love me would be my only goal._

_The way you read and the way you talk_

_Is the only reason I would walk._

_For my love for you_

_Is at Timbuktu_

_Be my Helen and I'll be your Troy_

_For my love for you is ever joy._

_All my love,_

_Daniel._"

I smirk. It was perfect.

I carefully fold it up, and hand it to Lisa, who hands it to Ginny, who smirks at us before slowly creeping up behind Acne Face Alexandra who's completely oblivious to her surroundings.

"Daniel?" Becky asks again. "Daniel McKeith."

"Well duh," I roll my eyes, and turn towards my best friend. Her green eyes were wide with surprise and _Gone with the Wind _was wide open in front of her.

"Is there any other total hottie called Daniel that you know of?"

"What's he ever done to you?" she asks in an accusing tone. "Don't you know how humiliating this would be for him?"

"Lighten up Becky," Lisa scoffs. "You take things way too seriously. Yes, we know how humiliating this is going to be for him, so what? "

"She's right Becky," Marcia nods. "You really need to lighten up."

"By what?" Becky asks, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Humiliating an innocent girl?"

"Oh come on Becky!" Lisa sighs in exasperation. "That middle class dork? Alexandra? She's being asking for it since 6th grade! Besides," Lisa whips her red hair behind her, "Daniel went out to the Hop with Emily Lennox. Not me."

"Oh my gosh here it goes!" Ginny squeals excitedly from behind us, grabbing Becky and my forearms. I turn my attention to where Acne-Face was and watch her carefully. Her blue eyes were focused on the paper as she took timid but quick steps towards the table full of Varsity Jocks surrounding Daniel McKeith who was most likely telling them another exaggerated story.

I press my lips together to stop my giggles from escaping as I see the scene unravelling in front of me. Alexandra hands Daniel the letter and stands nervously and starts fidgeting with her hands, occasionally pushing back her glasses that kept on sliding down her long sweaty nose. The jocks stare at Daniel as he reads the letter in deathly silence.

Daniel's ears go red and his eyes turn stormy. He looks up to Acne Face then back down at the note, before smiling wickedly. I can't hear what he's saying over the busy cafeteria, but from the way his mouth's moving I can tell that he was reciting the poem. The boys at the table, including Daniel, laugh at Acne Face as her face becomes red from embarrassment and her eyes turn glossy.

I finally burst out in laughter, joining the boys laughter and soon after our whole table starts laughing along with the boys' loud guffawing. Acne Face looks at the direction of our table and her face falls as she finally puts two and two together.

"Aw, she's going to cry," Lisa coos mockingly. "How adorable."

Alex finally breaks down into tears and runs out of the cafeteria but not before bumping into a few other students causing their lunch to splatter onto them and her. Once she finally left, Lisa and I did our secret handshake. We slapped the insides of our right hand together then the outside then we clench our fists and bump them together before blowing a kiss to each other.

"Now that was fun," Lisa declares to our table.

"Here, here!" Ginny agrees loudly, her cheeks flushed with laughter. Marcia nods earnestly with a large smile on her face and I simply smirk.

"Absolutely," I say in a sweet tone. I turn to Cherry and smile at her. "What did you think Cherry?"

Cherry glares at me but she manages to give me a stoic nod with a fake smile. I smile back at her with the same fakeness. Ginny then starts talking trash about some greaser girl named Sylvia who I don't know of, and soon after the rest of the girls join in. Everyone except for Becky.

Becky looks cold. Not the cold, meaning her lips were turning blue but cold as in the way Mother looks at people, making them feel nervous and uncomfortable. I know exactly what was going through that pretty head of hers so I grab her wrist and press it lightly, causing her to turn to me.

"Don't," I tell her quietly.

"Katie, she deserves an apology," Becky whispers back.

"Just don't."

She looks at me as I try and communicate with my eyes before she finally getting the message and reluctantly backs down. She knew the rules, and she should stick by them. Acne-Face is middle classer. Becky is a socialite. If Becky is seen talking with Acne-Face and the other socialites gets wind of it then her reputation is doomed. So would Acne-Face's but I doubt she has much of a reputation. She's just another wallflower of the school, another boring person, and another middle classer.

Becky returns back to her novel, avoiding the other girls trash talking while I join in their conversation. But for the whole time, I wasn't paying attention to what they were saying. I thought about Acne-Face. Normally once I humiliated someone I would forget about them, but not Acne-Face. I remember how she looked when she realised that Daniel didn't write the letter. How hurt she was. But that was only because I was in her position once. Part of me, tells me to go apologise and make it up to her. But another part reminds me that it shouldn't matter because she was just another middle classer.

And it doesn't matter. Because I am socialite girl. And I am better.


	3. Family issues and the Cadillac

**Okay again, sincere apologies for not updating in months.  
IMPORTANT: I'm running out of ideas for this story even though I desperately want to complete it. If you have any suggestions or ideas please please PM or just post a review if you wish to help me. I've got lots of ideas for the story but I don't know where to go next.**

**The chapter title is based on: Women and Cadillac by the Nite Riders**

After school's done I go through my daily afternoon routine. Talk with a group of socialites at the school steps before going off to either Jerry's or The Way Out, depending on our mood and which boys were going to which hangout. Then we'd talk, gossip and flirt with a few guys just for the fun of it until it was time to leave. Then I would normally lock myself in my room and talk to the girls over my own phone.

"But did you see the way Dill Fenton looked at you? He definitely has a crush on you!" Becky giggles, obviously forgetting about today's lunch. "But you better not tell Randy otherwise he'll get so jealous."

I roll my eyes. "Let him be jealous. But Dill Fenton? I mean I know he's cute and all but he seems like such a bore." Also he's a middle classer.

"But," I say quickly, before Becky can say anything else. "Guess what happened?"  
"What?"  
"I heard from Lauren that Susie Walker is officially a Greaser now."  
"What? No!"  
"Uh huh," I tell her a bit too eagerly. "That dork Ursula caught her making out with some Greaser during lunch today and then Ursula told Susie's group who disowned her and Pepper told Lauren to promise to not tell anybody but you know what a tattle tale Lauren is, so just be prepared to see Susie fall. And tell me if you see her crying, I want to take a photo to cherish for the rest of my life."

"Katie," Becky scolds. I can just imagine her frowning disapprovingly over the line. "That's just plain horrible."

"Katie?" I hear Aunt Loretta call from downstairs. "Katie, your Uncle will be here soon! Make yourself look presentable and get yourself down here before he arrives!"

"Yes Aunt Loretta," I yell. I bring the receiver back to my ear and quickly tell Becky that I have to go soon.

"Isn't Bob and his family coming over?" Becky asks.  
"They're meant to," I correct her. "But things aren't exactly all sunshines and rainbows at the Sheldons' place."  
"Who's household is?" Becky laughs cynically. I raise an eyebrow but I don't comment on it. Cynical isn't a word associated with Becky. "Tell Bob I say hi if he comes over."

"If they come," I add in bitterly.

Every Thursday, the Sheldons either come over to our house for dinner or we go to their house. It's this weird family bonding ritual that Aunt Loretta forces the whole family to do since Linda Sheldon is her younger sister and they're as close as sisters can get. Normally, I didn't mind these dinners since Bob was there to keep me company but ever since Frank's philandering ways were brought back into light, these dinners were anything but 'fun'.

"Honey, I'm home!"

I groan. "I've got to go. Uncle Paul's here and if I don't go down-"

"Katie!" Aunt Loretta shrills. Becky chuckles on the line. "I understand. I'll see you tomorrow!"

I hang the phone up and go to greet Uncle Paul. I find it ridiculous that the women in the household have to greet the patriarch of the house when he comes back from work. Especially when both Aunt Loretta and Uncle Paul forget that I exist half the time. That's one thing I miss about living with Mother. It was just Mother and me and her boyfriend of the month, and since he didn't live with us I didn't have to go and greet Mother and boyfriend at the front door whenever they came back home. By the time I get to the bottom of the stairs, Aunt Loretta's fussing about Uncle Paul. I admit, it's a touching sight but it's not like I'm going to let anybody know about how I feel about their marriage.

"You're just in time for dinner," Aunt Loretta pecks Uncle Paul's cheek before helping him out of his jacket. Sometimes, I secretly wonder what it's like for them. To have life so easily laid out for them. Having a husband who dotes on you and a wife who adores you with perfect blond haired children, being financially stable, and living in a big house with a front yard, backyard, and a pool. If only I have parents like them... or even _be_ like them.

"Thanks honey," Uncle Paul replies, with a grin on his face. He looks at my direction and his smile widens. "How are you, Katie?"

"I'm fine," I smile back reluctantly. Sometimes, Uncle Paul's smiles were too contagious. "How was work?"

"Oh! Honey," Aunt Loretta exclaims to Uncle Paul happily. "Pray tell! Anything interesting at work?"

Unsurprisingly, Uncle Paul forgets about my question and my existence and starts prattling off his day at the office as they go to the dining room, arms linked together, looking at each other adoringly. I sigh, and dejectedly follow them to the dining room and sit at my chair, on Uncle Paul's right.

"So," Uncle Paul claps his hands together and rubs them in excitement. "What's for dinner?"

"Beef Casserole," Aunt Loretta replies, beaming with pride. "Corn on cob, boiled peas and carrots, and some boiled potatoes. Just the way you like it!"

I frown but don't say anything. Weren't we supposed to have lemon chicken? And beef casserole? Franklin and Bob both hate casseroles, surprisingly that's one of the many few things that they had in common.

"Weren't we supposed to have lemon chicken?" Uncle Paul asks, voicing my question. Aunt Loretta frowns but she quickly covers it up by smiling. "Oh Paul, I'm sorry. I thought you would want casserole tonight seeing as you love them so much. Do forgive me dear, I'll go and fix up that lemon chicken right away."

"Oh no honey," Uncle Paul stops her. "The casserole sounds delicious but... well what about your sister and her family?"

Aunt Loretta blanches but she quickly recovers by smiling. "Oh. Well, they, er... Linda's feeling sick again so she can't come and I think Franklin's still at the office so they can't make it tonight."

Also known as, Frank's gotten a new mistress and Linda found out and they had a massive fight, resulting in Linda breaking down in hysterics, Frank leaving the house to the pub, ditching Bob at home to take care of a hysterical Linda. I sigh. Some things just never change, do they?

"Oh," Uncle Paul says. "Well, I'm sure Linda will be won't mind if Robert comes over to have dinner we us, won't she Katie?"  
"Yes," I agree, smiling sweetly, unconsciously tapping my fingernail against my knife. "Bob should come over. I mean, didn't you make those marshmallow rice squares? Those _are_ his favorites."

"I did," Aunt Loretta agrees, placing the casserole at the center of the table. "But, I think we ought to let the Sheldons have a nice quiet dinner at their place. Just this Thursday." Aunt Loretta flashes us a warm smile, before going back into the kitchen to get the wine. Once she gets the wine we say Grace and then start eating. I'll admit, dinner at the Holdens' is delicious and I'm grateful that I have a plate of warm beef casserole infant of me instead of a stale, crispy, green salad but it would've been better if Aunt Loretta actually did the cooking instead of getting our maid Rachel to do it.

"Katie," Aunt Loretta says, acting nonchalant. "I've been noticing that you haven't been over to Mrs Fairbank's for quite some time. What's happened?"

"Well," I say slowly, quickly thinking of a lie. "I've just been really busy I guess. I mean, I know poor old Mrs Fairbanks needs company but I've got friends who need me to! And I've been helping Lisa with her cheerleading and I've also got those singing lessons."

Why did I lie? Because Loretta only forces me to keep Mrs Fairbanks company so that it reflects well on Aunt Loretta and it could possibly promote her to President of Junior League instead of just Vice President.

"And also my car isn't working," I add in.

"I thought I fixed it," Uncle Paul says, looking up from his plate with a frown on his face. "With Paulie, last time he came around."

"Which was three weeks ago," I agree in a patronizing tone. "But you two aren't necessarily mechanics are you?"  
"Oh dear," Aunt Loretta exclaims suddenly, bringing her napkin to her mouth. "That reminds me, Katie, I had your car taken away."

"You did WHAT?" I unintentionally yell, standing up from shock. Did she just say she _took_ my _car_? MY _car_?  
"Katie, sit down," Aunt Loretta chides. "It's incredibly rude and unladylike to suddenly stand in the middle of dinner."  
I resist rolling my eyes and sit back down with a huff. "W-when did you- Why? How did you even- ugh!"  
"Deep breaths," Uncle Paul warns me.

I close my eyes and do my breathing exercises. Deep breaths. Breathe in. Breathe out. It's this stupid method my mother does. It helps her calm her nerves down. I never really used them except for when I was nervous but ever since I smacked Jerry Burns with a dictionary back in 6th grade, it was recommended I did these exercises to keep my temper in check. Surprisingly they work. Unsurprisingly, I hated them.

"Why, you haven't been using your car for weeks," Aunt Loretta explains. "And I know how much you adore that car, even if it is a car, and I thought; Oh well, maybe there's something wrong with it so I called up a mechanic to check it up and he said that there was a broken... um... what was it? Oh well! A broken something!"

I groan and slump back on my chair, even though I was at a dinner table. I know my aunt had good intentions but did anybody. ANYBODY? Know what personal items mean? And 'do not touch without my permission'? Especially my Baby Girl? It's the only item that I truly, absolutely, certainly adore. A nice turquoise 1964 Cadillac Coupe DeVille with white leather seats and white convertible top. Whoever said Diamonds were a Girl's Best Friend is an idiot. A Cadillac is far better than some petty diamond necklace.

"Katherine, please," Aunt Loretta scoffs. "Don't be so dramatic, dear, it's just a car. It's not like... like... that George from the Beatles died. If you go to the station tomorrow, why, you can get your car back as good as new!"

"And what station is that?" I scoff. "Texaco? Because those mechanics over there are fools." And losers, I add in silently.

"Oh no," Aunt Loretta says, shaking her head. "It's the DX."

**A/N: Okay, I know this originally was meant to be a Sodapop/OC story but I'm not too sure if it should be a Sodapop/OC story or a Steve/OC story. Review or PM your thoughts about it or else I won't be able to finish this story. **


	4. Katie the Prima Donna

**Chapter** **Song: Donna the Primadonna by Dion and the Belmonts**

"Oh stop being so melodramatic, Katie," Cherry sighs, failing to hide her exasperation. "It's not like you're going to be executed."

"Well I might as well be!" I snap, glaring at the redhead next to me. Cherry just rolls her eyes and turns up the volume, filling our ears with Dion and the Belmonts. I pout and rest my head in my hand as I stare at the passing houses and shops.

It's been a week since Aunt Loretta told me about her little 'confusion' over the gas stations and she assigned Cherry to accompany me to retrieve my car. _Assigned_. How old does she think I am? Freaking Five? It's as if she thinks Little Miss I'm-a-cheerleader-thus-I'm-awesome is responsible and I'm just some stupid incompetent toddler!

So here I am, sitting pathetically at the front seat in Cherry's Stingray as she drives me over the DX with Ginny and Marcia in tow. Lisa smirked at me as soon as she found out about my misfortune and ran away saying she had other plans and Becky had piano lessons; leaving me with Godzilla redhead, ditzy Marcia, and loyal (and strangely eager) Ginny who had the heart to accompany me despite having plans with her mother.

"Cheer up Katie," Ginny pipes up from the back. "I heard that the guys that work there are seriously good looking."

"What like Skylar Lowens?" I ask, raising my eyebrow in doubt. Skylar Lowens. Senior. Quarterback. Montgomery Clift lookalike. Best looking guy in our school, hands down.

"Oh no," Marcia shakes her head, her brown eyes wide. "You remember Sodapop Curtis dontcha?"

I stiffen.

"Well, he's grown up to be a real doll!" Ginny adds in eagerly. "Not that he wasn't cute back when we were little but he's soooo good looking!"

"Oh and Steve Randle too!" Marcia adds in. "Though he's not as good looking, he's still cute."

I hear Cherry choke, on what I presume is laughter, since Randle is the furthest thing from 'cute'. If my memory serves me right he's a mean, hot headed, smart ass, who hated me and then became my friend when I hid him in the girls toilets from Mrs Kendrick back in 3rd Grade. I then think about Sodapop and what Ginny said. Sure he was always a good looking kid, but I can't help but wonder what he looks like now. Afterall, he was my first best friend here at Tulsa as much as I hate to admit it.

"And we're here," Cherry announces, as she turns the engine off.

I look over the place with contempt. I don't see what's so darn special about this place. It's rundown, tiny, reeks like gas, noisy, and there were a bunch of teenage girls hanging around as if it were Rusty's. God, their lives must be truly depressing.

"I can't believe we're actually here!" Marcia squeals to Ginny quietly, causing me to snap: "Well since you're so desperate to meet your prince Charming why don't you go meet him?"

"Oh um… I-I-I'll stay in the car," Marcia bumbles like an incoherent fool she is.

"Coward," I mutter, audibly enough for the girls to hear. Marcia flushes bright red and looks down at her plain loafers, as Ginny giggles at her misfortune. Ginny jumps out of the Stingray and heads towards the shop part of the station and Marcia follows her suit.

Cherry gets out of the car and motions me to get out but I shake my head.

"I'm not going in there."

Cherry groans and stamps her foot impatiently. "Damn it Katherine! Get your whiny ass out of my car and go get your own damn car!"

I cross my arms in defiance and stick my chin up, not caring how childish this scenario must look. I've already been embarrassed by Lisa today by being in this trashy place so what harm is a little more embarrassment going to cause. Besides, I'll never hear the end of it if Lisa finds out that I'm being bossed around by Carrot-Head-Godzilla.

"You can't make me!"  
"If you don't I'll tell the whole grade you've got a crush on Sodapop Curtis."

My jaw drops and it takes me all my might not to claw her eyes out. She wouldn't dare!

"But I don't!" I interject.

"People will still believe it," Cherry sighs, as if it were the most obvious thing.

"FINE!" I yell, getting out of her car and slamming the door shut, hoping to dent it. As much as I hate to admit it, she's right. Afterall, I was the one who said Susie Walker lost her virginity to some Greaser when it wasn't true.

Just like I expected, the place is a nightmare. The store is tiny yet it's packed with at least eleven girls, buzzing with excitement as if they were waiting for the Beatles to arrive. As I walk further into the store, I look around at all the girls. I've heard that quite a few Social and Greaser girls hung out around here a few times but I'm surprised by the number of Social girls I recognise from school. Just imagine what their mothers would say!

"Oh! Hi Katie," a girl who I don't know of, squeaks perkily with an equally perky smile. I glare at little Miss Perky with disgust, and her smile drops and she rushes out of the place as if the cops were after her. I make my way towards the sea of girls and push my way through as Cherry silently follows behind me.

"Ugh, what's so good about this place anyway?" I hiss to Cherry, as I shove another girl out of my way. "It's like we're in a damn cattle cart!"

Cherry just shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, causing me to roll my eyes. She's suppose to be one of the smartest girls in our grade yet all I see her as is a complete loser who's constantly in a vegetative state by the way she stands so carelessly, not even trying to help me get past these squealing tweenies and try hards. Thankfully, as I get further to the front the girls start dispersing slowly and unsurely, as if they aren't certain if they actually want to leave yet or not.

I finally get to the front desk and put on a polite smile, despite my desperate urge to scream and burn the place down. But that smile quickly falls off as I realise who's at the front desk.

Steve. Freaking. Randle.

Brilliant. Just the person who I'm _dying_ to see.

"Well," Randle drawls, crossing his arms. "Look what the cat dragged back."

"Hello to you too," I say cordially. I quickly look over him and to my surprise he's changed alot since I last saw him. He's taller, muscular, and in all honesty a good looking guy but definitely not 'cute' as Marcia put it. Cute is what you would call a bunch of pretty silk bows or a young puppy, and Steve Randle isn't a cute young puppy or a pretty Parisian silk ribbon.

"I'm here to pick up my car," I tell him in a formal tone. There's no need for a big joyful, tear stained reunion, since I doubt I'll never see his face again as soon as I get my car.

"Can I just say, I'd never thought I'd see the day Katherine von Princess would grace us with her fine airs at this humble establishment," he comments mockingly instead, with a cruel smirk on his face. Heat rushes to my face and I glare at him.

"Just get me my car will you Randle?" I snap. "It's a turquoise Cadillac Coupe De Ville with the license plate: 36907 - J."

"As you wish your majesty," he replies mockingly, with an infuriating smirk on his face. "But if I may ask, what are the hell are you doing here? Because if I remember correctly, you once said: "I'm never associating with white trash ever again!"

"Please," I scoff. "You should honored by my presence, because if it weren't for my ditzy headed aunt, I would've had my car fixed at Texaco!"

"Texaco?" Randle snorts derisively, dropping his mocking tone. "C'mon von Walderberg, we both know that Texaco's full of shitbags who don't even know what they're doing."

"Yes and because the DX is sooo much more different," I bite back sarcastically.

"You'd be surprised," Randle replies coldly. "Unlike those idiots over at Texaco who suck your wallet dry, we at least fix your daddy bought car."

A sharp stab pierces into my heart but it gets quickly replaced with fury and I glare at him harder. Oh! Just what I would do to if I wasn't a lady! I clench my jaw and take a deep breath in. And exhale. God remind how I even became good friends with this jerk.

"Well at least Texaco has the decency not to hire the likes of you!" I bite back coldly.

"Oh and what's that supposed to mean," his eyes flash angrily, as he slams his magazine shut.

"You know exactly what I mean Steven," I smirk, pleased that he's still actually the hot headed idiot I met years ago. "I seriously wouldn't surprised if the DX gets closed. I mean, the whole town knows that the DX only has three Greaser workers and a sick minded pervert as the manager. Don't worry, I hear that our school's hiring for a new janitor-"

I shut my mouth at the dangerous look on his face, realising my mistake. If it's one thing Tulsa's ever told me, it's not to mess with the Greasers. Though I doubt Randle will do anything in front of all the girls in the station, the look of pure murder on his face is frightening as it is.

"You're lucky that you're a girl," he growls threateningly. "Or else I would've snapped your neck by now."

"That didn't stop your dad from nearly killing your mom," I reply back coolly, knowing it be a major slap in his face. That's what he gets for mentioning Jonny.

"I think it's best if you leave," another voice says coldly.

I look up and my jaw nearly drops at the sight of the guy behind Steve. His golden hair and brown eyes are unmistakable but some part of me wants to believe that this isn't Sodapop - the crazy kid who cut my hair with the teacher's scissors when he got glue in my hair. He's changed a lot. His hair's styled back with grease, he's more muscular and taller, and like Ginny and Marcia said he's grown up a lot and he is a doll. Heck, he looks alot like Paul Newman.

I quickly remember myself and break out of my trance, raising an eyebrow at Sodapop.

"You think I'm here for my own amusement?" I ask sarcastically at Sodapop.

He gives me another cold stare and I roll my eyes. "Don't worry, I'm leaving as soon as I get my car back."

He slams some keys on the desk and I realise that they're mine.

"Behind the garage, you'll know which one's yours," he says in a distant voice, not sounding like the cheerful tone I was so used to hearing.

I give him an obviously fake smile and grab the keys off the desk, turning to leave before realising Cherry isn't behind me like I thought she was throughout the whole situation. I look around and see her standing where the magazines are. She catches me looking at her and she blushes before averting her eyes down to her magazine. I roll my eyes at her 'discreteness' and go over to her, where she puts down her magazine and looks at me expectantly.

"Ready to go now?" she asks in a polite but distant tone.

I relax my jaw, which I unconsciously had been clenching throughout the whole interaction with the two Greasers and nod.

"Let's go," I say with a sweet smile, "we're too good for this trashy place anyhow."


End file.
